The Lord and the Banshee (Read by Candlelight #13) - Gillian St. Kevern Page 0,24

He gestured to the leading article. “This here. It’s the type of story I cover. If I wasn’t here, this would have been my assignment. Instead, Grossman’s got it—Grossman! It’s a wonder the man’s found the right end of the pencil.” He scowled at the page before him.

The man sat in a castle that belonged to him, on furniture that would have netted a small fortune at an auction house. He was positioned to take his place in high society—and he was more interested in who covered the courtroom beat half a world away. “Journalism was not merely a job to you.”

Connaught’s forehead puckered. “No. No, it was not.” He sighed. “It wasn’t all scoops and headlines. There were nights when I was up until three am, pounding out copy, or trudging the streets in the cold and the wet, in search of a lead that never eventuated… But when it did, and when you knew you were onto something good…” He chuckled, a gleam in his eyes transforming his habitual mulish look into that of an alert hunting dog. “That was something all right.” He leaned back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes.

Thomas knew that expression well: Pip checked by societal dictates from pursuing an avenue of occult research that interested him. His chest tightened. He would apologise when Pip returned. But first… “I wonder if I could trouble you for a moment.” He withdrew the will from his pocket. “I need two witnesses to my signature.”

***

Pip and Julian returned full of enthusiasm for the Irish landscape, but with no fresh insight into the banshee. They expanded on the trip during dinner, until even Mrs O’Flaherty, who had made many visits to the abbey ruins over her lifetime, declared that she must make a return trip, as their combined enthusiasm made her long to see it anew.

Thomas pressed his lips together. Pip put on a good show, but he reserved his enthusiasm, not for ruins, but their potential unearthly inhabitants. This show of enjoyment was just that—a show. A sideways glance from Julian towards his father confirmed it: Pip was putting on a brave face.

Brooding over Thomas’ treatment of him? Thomas tightened his grip on his glass of wine. This could not continue.

After dinner, he declined the invitation to join Connaught for drinks. “I will retire and try what an early night will do for me. Mr Leighton, I wonder if you’d come with me? I’d like to talk to you.”

“About time,” Julian muttered.

Pip gave his son a reproving glance, but followed Thomas to his bedroom. “Are you sure it’s wise to leave Julian unattended? You know how he is when one of his fads takes him.”

Thomas snorted. “We should be safe. The gardener is not likely to be at work after dark.”

“That is true.” Pip fidgeted with his tie. “Have you seen the man? Does he have a beard?”

Nervous—of Thomas? “A serviceable beard, yes, but we need not be too concerned.” Thomas levered himself onto his bed. “According to his grandfather, he has an understanding with a housemaid.”

“That is a relief,” Pip said. “Not that I’m worried about Julian. While his enthusiasms are embarrassing, they are platonic. I take heart knowing that, aggravating as he may be in other respects, he is entirely pure of mind.”

Thomas rubbed his temple. “Some day he is going to work out the cause of his enthusiasms. I would not be surprised if that day had come.”

“Nonsense.” Pip perched on the end of the bed. “That day is not coming for a long day yet. I’m his father. I know these things. How are you feeling?”

Thomas drew a deep breath. “Better than I was this morning. On that note, I apologise for my brusque manner.” He pulled out the now signed and witnessed will from his breast pocket. “As my heir, it would not be proper for you to witness my will, but I see no harm in acquainting you with the changes I have made.”

Pip frowned, taking the document. “You’ve changed your will? Why?”

He coughed. “It had occurred to me that while the majority of my estate is entailed, Foxwood Park might be disposed of. I consulted Morley, and he saw no obstacle, provided that a property of equal value takes its place.”

Pip looked up at once. “Julian?”

Thomas nodded. “Foxwood Park is his. The Boxhill estate will go to you.”

“And then to George.” Pip looked at the document he held. “Fitting that the Leighton estate remains in the Leighton